A Frenchman In London
by MeAndTheWeirdo
Summary: Set in the late 1800's, an eager Frenchman leaves his homeland and sets for England where he hopes he can become the writer he's always dreamed to be. But it seems that someone else also has the same idea as him... but not willing to earn it without violence.
1. Chapitre Un

**Chapitre 1**

_« Impossible n'est pas français! » _

I glanced at the sea below me as the boat sliced through it. The gentle air glided around my face. The aroma of sea air... Ah, so _serein!_ I took another sip of red imported wine. Sigh. Paris will always be my home and France, of course, would always be my homeland. Nothing can replace the smell of walking into a French _boulangerie_. The smell of fresh bread is so intoxicating...! But alas, travel is good for the mind. And a wider mind brings wider thoughts. I swirled the scarlet liquid in my glass gently. As if I was in thought. I was in thought. I finally reached 20 years of age. I had to consider what to do with my life. And nothing mattered more to me than art. The art of prose, that is. Writing was my life and I wanted to pursue in it. To be recognised as a man who could make words dance on a page!

So where could I head, I thought? The first place that came to mind was across _la Manche_. To the land of England. After the Regency, they literally owned Europe and if anything, my career could start there. Someone there must be looking for talent. Someone must be interested in my writings. The words I crafted to dance on my page.

"Oh _Monsieur_, would you like another glass of wine?"

I turned to the waiter on my right who had a pleasant smile and an elegant bottle in his hands. I smiled back at him.

"Ah, _s'il vous pla__î__t_..." I replied, holding my now empty glass out.

After a good view of the blue ocean, I returned to my seat on the deck.

"Ah... The air is so refreshing..." I sighed. I grinned to myself after hearing my voice. I had a thick accent that could sweep any Parisienne off her feet. I wonder if the English women had similar tastes... I know the feeling of many soft hands. Soft hands that only touch me for one night and high voices I never have to hear again. It always has been like that for me. To me, women are like chocolates. One can be never enough. And that is what I stick by and always will.

The notebooks on the table next to me caught my eye. Those very notebooks are what hold my whole future. They're full of art that should be showcased for the public. I had seen what the English liked to read. They loved their _amour_... that was for sure. Many were in the form of poems, plays and much more; all about _amour_. Personally, I write tragedies... tragedies that I will never live. I smirked a little. Love is the greatest of tragedies, the tragedy I write the most. This is why I vow to never allow it no matter what. Only fools fall in love. Ha, and I'm no _imbécile!_

I watched the waiter saunter away to the next passenger. According to him, England was not far off now. England! I wonder what it's like... Is it as lively and stylish as Paris? Or maybe they're more content and liked their countryside... I have never left my homeland until now. In Paris, I was definitely recognised for my talent. It was then I realised I had to use my gift for something... or it would go to waste. Now I had to take my own life into my hands and I don't want to take the wrong path. Who would I turn to if I did?

"Oh..." It suddenly hit me. Who would I go to about my passion? Who could I trust? Who would trust a foreigner?

I shook my head. No, I must have a clear mind about this. _Il faut casser le noyau pour avoir l'amande._ You need to break the shell to have the almond, as they say. Determination was sure to get me somewhere. I took in a deep breath, beaming afterwards. The salty air felt warm against my stubbly chin. Echoes of seagulls floated in the sky. England was the right place for me. I can't give up now. After all, "impossible" isn't even French!

We soon docked on the coast of a small town, giving me the chance to quickly glance of the landscape before we disembark. A little more grey than beautiful Paris but nonetheless, breath taking. Straight away, I could feel the atmosphere difference which pumped my adrenaline more. As I strolled off the boat, the waiter on the deck was waving us adieu. I stopped and turned around to catch his eye. His caught mine and he smiled warmly as before.

"_Ah, au revoir monsieur Bonnefoy! Bonne chance pour ton carrière!_"


	2. Chapitre Deux

**Chapitre 2**

As I headed into the capital of England, I saw the change of scenery very quickly. At first, the houses seemed very quiet and homely. But as I travelled on, more houses and people appeared. The cities became more dirty and overcrowded. I could see rich people with their graceful and precise horses, not caring about anything else but them. At the same time I could easily point out the poorer citizens, on streets with raged clothing and practically nothing. I was glad to be in a carriage, to be honest. I could hear the roads below me slosh in waste... and I'd much rather not be walking in it.

"Is this your first time in England?" I heard the coachman pipe up over the sound of the horses. He had a unique accent in his voice that I've never heard before.

"_Oui_, I was born in Paris..." I replied, raising my voice so I could be heard. The man chuckled a little.

"Not many Frenchman pay visits here... If you don't mind me being prying, what brings you to my city?" I glanced at the notebooks next to me. Well, perhaps he might know someone that could help me. And it would be considered rude to not reply.

"I want to become a writer. I thought England would be a good choice."

"Ah, yes! I know a man of intelligence when I see one! I wish you well on your journey then…..."

I wanted to continue the conservation but then I thought I might sound a bit desperate. So I sat back in my seat and continued to look at the view. It was all very _vert_, green. The outskirts of the main city were apparently like this. The city is the home to both the rich and poor. Many companies are based there and I'm hoping one of them is looking for new writers. Ah, England's capital... I blinked. That's odd... I couldn't remember the name of the city. I would've asked the coachman but I didn't want to sound ignorant and distant.

An hour later, we reached it.

"W-wow..." I was speechless. This, by far, was the biggest contrast I've seen! I hadn't seen so many people until now. And from the looks of it, almost everyone here was wealthy. The buildings looked better kept despite the dirt on the street. It was all... tremendous!

"Welcome to London, sir..." the coachman grinned. That was it! _Londres_, the capital! I nodded to the driver before leaving, smiling politely.

"_Merci beaucoup pour tout!_"

I explored more into the huge metropolis. London was better than I imagined! The atmosphere was scented with class and wealth. I had to find someone! I headed down a dark alley, hoping to end up in another street. Dead end.

"_Putain..._" I muttered to myself, turning around. I'm running blind. _Merde_, just how did I think I could find someone- I heard a door slam open. I spun on my heel to see a man staggering out a door next to me. When did this get here? Did I miss this door? I peered into the room past the door. It resembled a rowdy sort of café. There were people everywhere, hands on mugs of drinks. Perhaps it was a tavern of some sort? I cautiously entered, looking around. Echoes of laughter and chatter bounced at me. This was surely a different atmosphere from Paris... Or anywhere else for that matter.

A groan from my right. I jumped, a small yelp escaping me. Damnit, that scared me! I turned to the table next to me where a man was sitting. From what I could quickly gather, he had rather dishevelled blonde hair. Judging from his clothes, he definitely wasn't poor yet not extremely wealthy. Papers were scattered everywhere on the table, a drink not to be seen. The man sighed, scraping his hand through that blonde hair.

"I can't do this..."

Do what? I know I shouldn't be staring but my curiosity got to the better of me. The man grabbed his pen, dipping it twice into his glass inkwell and scribbling onto one of the papers.

I kept on admiring the pen, dancing on the page. The man- whoever he was- was a writer. No doubt about it. Only a true writer could make his pen so elegant with just one swift motion.

"Um, _excusez-moi_..." I coughed quietly, trying to stay unnoticed. He didn't look up. _Zut_... Perhaps he didn't hear me... No, he's too busy to pay attention to me-

"If you wish to address me personally then speak my language."

I stopped. W-what...? The man looked up, a stern expression upon him. Green eyes shone at me, framed by a pair of thick eyebrows. I cleared my throat again.

"Excuse me...?"

The man nodded, this time responding to me.

"Much better... What is it I can help you with?" he uttered, hardly a tone to his voice at all. I gulped to myself, thoughts running through my head. What do I say...?

"I'm sorry for intruding but I noticed you're the only gentleman here without a drink..." It was the best way I could think of to strike conservation. The man's bushy eyebrows buried.

"And what are you trying to suggest, sir?" a reply came.

"I meant, I noticed the papers strewn upon your table... And I observed your pen. Are you a man that knows his way around words?" I answered, still standing at my root. I could see judgement flash across his eyes.

"I presume you could label me as that... I have had experiences with the major press companies..." A grin spread across my features. I have found him! Someone who could help me!

"Ah, you see... I am a Frenchman that has travelled to England to seek enterprise within this line of work... And I was pondering-"

A chuckle escaped his lips, accompanied with a smug smirk.

"A Frenchman? Unconscious of his ignorance and running sightless in a foreign land? Ha, such jokes!"

He stood up, his glare much more sinister now.

"If you think an ignorant man like yourself stands a chance here then you're a fool! I have no time for fools!" he growled, not caring about the looks behind him. My hands twitched.

"A fool? But sir, I am in need!"

"Ha, such pity I can't bestow upon you! Find another madman that might put up with the likes of you," he yelled again, grabbing his papers and attempting to leave. I spun quickly, bolting my arm across his chest.

"Sir, I beg of you! I have travelled to London with nothing more than the clothes on my back! What pride do you have left to swallow if you ignore a beggar's pleas?"

The man stopped, eyes darting to my own. I could hear the low growl emitting from him.

"Pride is something I persevere myself on in order to be gentlemanly. Are you saying I am not a gentleman if I let my gullibility command me?" he spat back. I shook my head, an unnatural smile peeking through my lips.

"No, I am saying I am in need of your help. You are the only man I have met that has taken an interest in his quill." He bit his lip as if he was thinking deep. Thick seconds went by as the man thought of his reply.

"If I were to help a beggar like you, how could you repay me?"

"That subject doesn't concern me but I will grant you something in return for your hospitality..." He paused again.

He stepped back, a solemn expression upon his face.

"My apologies but if you are seeking for that type of help... I unfortunately am the wrong person to beg to..." My smile disappeared. I thought about arguing back but then I read his face. He was truly regretful, probably because he didn't have the type of power.

"I-I understand... I am sorry for wasting your time..." After that, I just nodded politely and left. I was so close... But if someone like him could get into the business, then anyone can. I walked out the tavern door again. But the way he made his pen dance was remarkable... It was pure talent, I could tell. How could he not be a top author? Perhaps the industry here is very tough.

The industry. Why should I get someone else to guide me there? Knowing the confident and wise man I am, I should know better. I should stroll up to that building and take them by wind! That was it. I made up my mind. Tomorrow, I'll head to the big companies!


End file.
